Fix You
by musicsetsmefree1
Summary: How could she really say what he had done?  Yes, he had ripped her apart, but in this way he had marked her as his.  He had taken a hollow figurine and, after smashing to the ground, filled it and fixed it so that it would never break again. SamEmily


_**When you try your best but you don't succeed**_

_**When you get what you want but not what you need**_

_**When you feel so tired but you can't sleep**_

_**Stuck in reverse**_

It had been a week of secret smiles and burning hot blushes. But now, that warmth was not on her cheeks, but on her mouth. Sam kissed her so fervently that she would have wondered why he was so desperate, had she been able to think. But, in Leah's backyard, sandwiched between a tall tree and Sam's lean body, nothing ran through her mind but desire.

But suddenly he pulled away, and before she could ask why, she heard it: "Sam? Emily? I got her!"

"Great," Sam called, though his voice was huskier than usual. Her name, her identity, her purpose for being outside with Sam (to track down Leah's dog and bring her back into the house) suddenly came flooding back to Emily.

"Hurry inside! Its cold!" They heard the backdoor slam. Emily tried to slip away, but Sam had her pinned to the tree.

"Sam, please… We can't do this. You're with Leah and I…"

"I know," he said, leaning toward her again. She shoved him back.

"I can't hurt her like this. Sam, I can't… I love her."

"I love her too, but…"

"Then, why, Sam? Why are you doing this?" She wanted to scream, but Leah was just inside.

"I don't know exactly. I couldn't tell you."

Emily lifted her chin in defiance. "Then it isn't a good enough reason, Sam. I can't do this."

He stepped back. "I can't be without you, Emily."

She froze, and looked into his eyes. They were dark in the dim light coming from the backdoor, but she saw something there that she had wanted to see since junior high.

"I can't be with you, Sam."

She could feel his hot stare as she stumbled toward the backdoor, holding her face and hoping Leah would not notice her swollen, red lips.

_**When the tears come streaming down your face**_

_**When you lose something you can't replace**_

_**When you love someone but it goes to waste**_

_**Could it be worse?**_

Those three words seemed to plunge into his chest and rip his soul into pieces.

"I'm going away."

She'd announced it the next day. She was thinking about moving off the reservation… maybe going to Portland. She was out of high school now, and she needed to move on, she had said. Sam had stood by, next to Leah, unable to really voice his opinion either way.

"I'll miss you… I don't know what I'll do without you," Leah had said, and wrapped her arms around the girl that was practically her sister.

Emily watched Sam as she hugged Leah.

He mouthed, "Don't go."

She mouthed, "No."

"How are you leaving?" Leah asked.

"I was going to get a ride to the bus station…"

"I'll drive you," Sam said, his words bursting from his mouth.

"Yes, let him, Emily. He's a good driver."

Emily stared at him, trying to hide her contempt. Finally, she agreed.

Now, they were driving in silence, pulling into the empty lot. It was dark for five o'clock.

He slid the car into park. Emily opened the door and went to the trunk, but Sam was already there, taking out her bag.

"Thanks," she said. His hand lingered on hers, and she pulled away.

"Don't go."

"I have to, Sam. You were going to marry, Leah. You are going to. When I'm gone you'll forget…"

"I won't. Emily, I'm imprinted on you."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

His explanation made no sense, yet it made all the sense in the world. She had noticed the exhaustion, the carnivorous habits he had developed, his sensitivity to smell. But those stories were just legends, and werewolves weren't real.

"Stop it, Sam."

"Emily, I'm telling you the truth…"

"Stop! Sam, I'm leaving! I am never coming back for you!"

Tears were running down her face.

"I'm never…" She sobbed, and turned to run. Sam grabbed her arm.

"Emily, listen to me!"

"Let me go!" she screamed. And he was angry, and suddenly there was a flash of red.

Emily felt herself fall to the ground, and suddenly Sam was right there, sobbing, calling her name. She felt the blood sinking from her skin onto the road beneath her.

She never made it to the bus station.

_**Lights will guide you home**_

_**And ignite your bones**_

_**And I will try to fix you**_

Her face was sore and stiff, and she dared not move. She did, however, open one eye… the eye that was not covered in white bandages.

She saw him sometimes, standing outside the window… he never came in. Sometimes she convinced herself that it was her, one side of her face mangled that repelled him. But she knew that _he_ had done it. And he was scared of himself, and what he could still do.

She wished he would come into her room, and hold her hand. Emily sometimes wondered if he even cared for her anymore, but she knew he did. He had signed the papers: he was paying her medical bills: he was fixing her.

She closed her eyes again because he was not there, so there was no point in being awake.

_**And high up above or down below**_

_**When you're too in love to let it go**_

_**But if you never try, you'll never know**_

_**Just what you're worth**_

When she got out of the hospital, he did not come to bring her home. He was staying as far away as humanly, or beastly, possible. She immediately moved into the tiny house her family had lived in before her parents died. It sat out near the woods, just the size she needed, and just the location she wanted: if he didn't come to her directly, at least she felt close to him in the woods.

She heard snippets of news. The Cullens had returned. He was, apparently, the head of some gang of teenage boys that kept the peace. He had broken things off with Leah. All of these things Leah had told her in short visits or emotional phone calls. With the brutal scars running down her face, neck, and arm, Emily hadn't exactly been gallivanting across the reservation.

It was late when the knock sounded on her door. Emily grabbed a scarf to hide her face and went to the door.

"Who is it?" she called from inside.

"Its Sam, Emily."

Her hand clenched against the door, and she expelled her breath slowly. She wrapped the scarf around her face and opened the door.

Sam stood there, panting as if he had just run a long distance. He stared at her, and she thought he could see through her scarf to the dark scars.

"Can I come in?" he asked. She nodded. When he stepped forward, she didn't step back. One of his hands rested on her shoulder, and she shuddered at the touch.

"Why are you hiding?" She didn't answer, and did not stop him as he reached forward and pushed the scarf from her face, uncovering her slanted eye, her marred cheek, her grimaced lips.

She was terrified, because she thought he was going to be disgusted and leave immediately, never to return. But instead, he traced those scars down her face, and his fingertips were so gentle that she closed her eyes at the touch. And suddenly, his lips were on hers.

_**Lights will guide you home**_

_**And ignite your bones**_

_**And I will try to fix you**_

He told her everything: his boys, his purpose, and the vampires down in Forks. She tried to listen, but his hand on her long hair was hypnotic, and she was so drugged by happiness that she just lay in his arms on the couch, trying to memorize how his body felt next to hers, and the exact rhythm of his fingers through her hair… just in case he ever left again. But suddenly, his chest was shaking, and she looked up. He was fighting the grief back inside.

"Sam…"

"What I've done to you…" he said, cupping the unspoiled side of her face. "I should burn in hell for a thousand lifetimes."

"No, Sam. No…" she said, touching his face. How could she really say what he had done? Yes, he had ripped her apart, but in this way he had marked her as his. He had taken a hollow figurine and, after smashing to the ground, filled it and fixed it so that it would never break again. How could she say what he had done?

They fell asleep together on that couch, perfect.

_**Tears stream down your face**_

_**When you lose something you cannot replace**_

_**Tears stream down your face and I…**_

"I'm sorry, Leah. I'm so sorry…"

"You couldn't say it enough for it to mean anything to me!" she screamed back. Emily was sobbing, but Leah stood straight and tall, locking those tears inside.

"I didn't want to…"

"I can't listen to you anymore, Emily. I can't. I don't know you anymore."

"Leah, please. You are my best friend…"

"I can't, Emily. I can't."

Leah opened the backdoor and went back inside. Emily seemed to collapse, leaning against the tall tree in her backyard. She fell to her knees, then sat on the wet ground, trying to push her tears away. After a long while, a hand touched her shoulder, and she looked up. Leah kneeled next to her.

"I can't forgive you, Leah. But I can't pretend that I don't love you either."

"Will you be there with me, Leah? My bridesmaid?"

Leah looked at the ground, and Emily saw the model of self-sacrifice in the girl in front of her.

"Yes. Of course."

_**Lights will guide you home**_

_**And ignite your bones**_

_**And I will try to fix you**_


End file.
